


indulgence

by bethchildz



Category: Grace and Frankie (TV)
Genre: F/F, Post-Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 09:24:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15240327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethchildz/pseuds/bethchildz
Summary: They're sitting on the couch, a martini delicately placed in Grace's hand and Frankie's back to the arm rest when Frankie randomly blurts out, "Do you miss sex?"





	indulgence

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something I needed to get out of my head. I wrote it pretty quickly so there might be a bunch of mistakes, but these 2 are just so fun to write.

They're sitting on the couch, a martini delicately placed in Grace's hand and Frankie's back to the arm rest when Frankie randomly blurts out, "Do you miss sex?"

Grace's head spins around so fast she almost spills the vodka from her glass. "What?"

"You know, since you left your boy toy," Frankie smirks. Nick had hung around for longer than Frankie (or Grace) would've liked, but he had bought back the beach house and for that they were both eternally grateful. Nevertheless, the relationship had reached its natural end, and no men had seen their way into the beach house ever since.

Grace gives Frankie a disapproving look at her word choice, but shakes her head before she takes a sip from her martini."Isn't that what the Ménage is for?" she says as she crosses one leg over the other. She's not sure where Frankie is going with this and she isn't sure she _wants_ to know.

"But there's only so much you can get from your own hand, Grace," she says far too nonchalantly and Grace definitely doesn't want to be having this conversation. She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, unable to pinpoint exactly why this was making her so uncomfortable, after all, they did run a business based on masturbation, right?

"What are you saying, Frankie?"

"I was just wondering. You know, it's been a while," she nudges Grace slightly with her foot and Grace just rolls her eyes in response.

"Excuse me, I'm doing just fine thank you. And what about you? You haven't seen anyone since Jacob," she says, lightly slapping Frankie's leg with her free hand.

"I miss it," she says and she's looking at Grace with an expression she can't quite place.

"Your relationship with Jacob?" Grace asks, and they're looking at each other now. She can't quite explain why, but her voice comes out shakier than she would've liked.

"No. Well, sometimes. I meant sex."

"Oh." There's an uncharacteristic silence for a few beats before Grace speaks up again. "What about that app for hippies, haven't you tried that?"

"Oh, please. None of those men even know how to please a woman. I could get a better orgasm from sneezing." Grace can't help but let out a genuine laugh at that.

"Guess it's another wonderful part of old age," Grace says sarcastically, finishing the last of her current martini (the second of the evening, and by the way this conversation is going it definitely won't be the last).

"It doesn't have to be," Frankie says and she stretches out her legs so Grace has no choice but to take them in her lap. In response, Grace just raises her eyebrows. She has a strong feeling she knows where this is going and she wants no part of it but now Frankie's legs have her trapped in place and she can't budge. "We have each other."

"You can't be serious," Grace snorts in disbelief and suddenly she wishes she hadn't finished her martini because she desperately needs a distraction. A liquid one.

"What? It's perfectly natural, Grace."

"Are you seriously telling me you want to have sex with me?" she says incredulously. She doesn't know where to put her hands. Suddenly she can feel sweat start to form at the back of her neck. Frankie shrugs like they're talking about the weather and it makes Grace want to strangle her.

"Would it be so bad if I was?" she says and the playful teasing tone that usually comes with her infuriating and confusing remarks is nowhere to be found. Grace realises she actually sounds vulnerable.

"Wh-" Grace starts but realises she has no idea where to begin, "Are you forgetting that I'm heterosexual?" She doesn't know why her voice sounds so fragile, so unsure.

"Never mind, forget it," Frankie waves her hand, moves her legs from Grace's lap and walks to the kitchen where she opens the fridge, stares at it for a while before closing it again.

"Forget it? You can't just say something like that and pretend like it's nothing!" Grace shouts, she too getting to her feet.

"I get it. It's fine," she says, lingering next to the kitchen island.

"No it isn't! What are you saying? That you're suddenly gay now too?" Grace catches up to her in the kitchen, her eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"Try sounding more homophobic, Grace," Frankie pauses in frustration before grabbing a bag of chips and shovelling 3 in her mouth at once, "And no, not gay."

"But not straight either?"

"I don't feel the need to fit myself in a box. I've always been open."

"Of course you have," Grace rolls her eyes.

"Don't be a bitch," Frankie pushes past her and disappears out of the beach house door in a blur of turquoise and the unmistakable jingle of bangles. Grace is left in the kitchen, her head spinning and her sticky palms stuck to the kitchen island. She presses her fingers tightly against the bridge of her nose and breathes out heavily.

"God, I need another drink."

***

Frankie is sat on the porch smoking a joint when Grace gathers enough courage to go and speak to her. She hesitates in the doorway for a moment, watching the sun set beneath the soft blue waves before taking a deep breath in. She sits down beside Frankie and nudges her shoulder playfully.

"Enough of that to share?" she motions towards the joint.

"Really?" she looks at Grace with a small smile on her face, "I'm impressed." She passes Grace the joint and turns back to look out at the ocean.

"I'm sorry about earlier," Frankie says, her voice quiet. Grace doesn't respond, but Frankie can sense her nodding. "I shouldn't have pushed your boundaries."

"I didn't realise you knew what boundaries were," Grace laughs and it's teasing, the weed already relaxing her just slightly.

"Okay, Heterosexual Grace, I got it," she laughs.

"Was that ever really in question?" Grace is looking at her now with something that looks a little like fear in her eyes.

"Sometimes, I wondered when you'd..." she trails off, "never mind." Frankie reaches out for the joint in Grace's hand and takes a particularly long drag.

"What?" Grace asks nervously.

"You know, when we got the prototype for the business, and I said we should try them out and you said 'In the same room?'. Or the Say Yes night when you kept complimenting me. And all the times you blushed a little too much when I was talking about my preferences for the Ménage. Oh, and...the night of the gallery opening," Frankie blurts almost too quickly.

"Oh," was all Grace could muster.

"Do you remember?"

Grace nods, her eyes shutting slightly. "Barely."

_They had come back that night arm in arm, almost attached at the hip (something which Bud had commented on and Grace had explained, drunkenly, that she was just so proud). Bud and Coyote had hung around for about an hour after they got back for celebratory drinks (or soda for Coyote), and as things usually go Grace had had one too many. Maybe slightly too many._

_"Come here," Grace had slurred, grabbing Frankie by the waist and pulling her into her lap as she sat on the couch. "I'm-I'm so proud." Frankie had laughed along, her arm wrapping around Grace's shoulders. Coyote had stopped to take a picture of the moment, and it still remains stuck to the fridge to this day._

_After the Bergstein boys had left, they had remained in the same position, Grace's arms still tightly wrapped around Frankie's body, her face coming to rest in between her neck and her shoulder._

_"You're so gorgeous," she had slurred and Frankie had thought she had misheard until Grace had burst out laughing and clarified "I'm so drunk."_

"I...almost kissed you that night," Frankie admits, and it's as if the mid-summer air gets stuffier.

"W-what?" Grace stutters, forcing herself to make eye contact.

"It's ridiculous, I know." She takes another drag and passes the blunt to Grace.

"You were- you were with Jacob!" Grace states in between puffs of the weed. As if that's the craziest part of the confession.

"I was drunk, too. And a little high," she chuckles despite the tension in the air. "But those times I offered to do stuff to you. It wasn't all a joke, you know. I didn't think you would go for it back then, but there was some truth to it."

"And now?" Grace gulps.

"I don't know...things have been different since we got the beach house back."

"You mean since our kids locked us in a retirement home and threw out the keys?" Grace put out the joint and stretched her legs out in front of her, bringing her gaze to anything in front of her that wasn't Frankie.

"You can't say it didn't bring us closer together," Frankie says with a smile in her voice. She nudges Grace again and Grace realises they're so close their thighs are almost touching. Without understanding why, she feels the need to make it happen. So she does. She swallows hard at the warmth of the contact and she has to stifle a shiver. Did she always need to be this close to her?

"You could say that," she admits. She nervously wrings her hands together in her lap but out of the corner of her eye she sees Frankie lean over and suddenly she feels a soft warm hand in hers - comforting.

"You're my best friend, Grace," Frankie says and she sounds so earnest Grace can't help but look up, tears building in her eyes.  She nods.

"So why did you bring that up? Before," she says, her words stuck with tears. She doesn't even know why she's crying, but she can feel her heart threatening to leap out of her chest.

"Sometimes it feels like we're married." Frankie says and Grace, despite everything, chuckles slightly. She's not exactly wrong. "Without the sex." Grace snorts again.

"Yeah, I got that part," she rolls her eyes again but she doesn't move away from Frankie's comforting grasp - their hands still intertwined. Frankie leans her head on Grace's shoulder and says, "Well, sometimes I miss the sex."

"But we _aren't_ married. You could get a boyfriend," Grace suggests, but the thought of Frankie bringing back a man to their house creates an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach. Without realising, she squeezes Frankie's hand a little tighter.

"I don't think I want one," Frankie says and it's practically a whisper. They're silent for a while until Frankie turns to Grace, moves her hand from her best friend's and places it on her thigh instead. Grace visibly shivers.

"I'm your best friend, aren't I?" Frankie asks and she's looking at Grace with puppy eyes. It makes Grace's hardened heart soften a little.

"Uh, of course," she stammers, putting a comforting hand over Frankie's which still hasn't budged from its place on her thigh.

"So I can do this?" she rubs Grace's thigh gently.

"If...if you want," she's stuttering again and it sounds pathetic to her own ears.

"Or this?" she kisses her cheek softly. Grace's breath hitches and Frankie hesitates there, her lips lingering just inches away from Grace's skin. When Grace feels Frankie's warm, soft lips touch the space beneath her jaw she can't help the tiny 'oh' of surprise that leaves her mouth. It's almost a moan and she instantly feels ashamed.

"I don't...I don't think this is what best friends do," Grace laughs awkwardly, but she doesn't move.

"Does it matter?" Frankie says hoarsely into Grace's skin.

"I think...I think I want things I shouldn't want," Grace croaks, her voice quiet and full of shame, unlike the sure business woman she strives herself on being with everyone else. Frankie looks up at her at that, her hands coming out to cup her face.

"Hey, you're allowed to want this. Don't deny yourself," she says as if it's simple. But Grace has denied herself her whole life. She spent all of her adult years denying herself the carbs, denying herself the cake or the ice cream or the chips that everyone else was eating, denying herself happiness by instead marrying a man she knew she could _tolerate_ when everyone else was striving for passion and romance. She has denied herself want, denied herself indulgence except in the form of alcohol or Valium - the two knights in shining armour. But here is Frankie, all soft skin and hot breath. And suddenly Grace's stomach is churning with something other than dread and anxiety and it's shifting lower and lower by the second.

"What do you want, Grace? Tell me," Frankie is whispering into her ear and Grace is shaking. Not with fear this time, but with need.

"Kiss me," she husks, and she doesn't even recognise her own voice. It's hoarse and cracked and deep and it sounds like a woman who knows what it feels like to be loved. Before she can take it back, blame it on the weed or the vodka or the pills or a momentary glimpse into craziness, Frankie is kissing her. It's slow and meaningful and far too soft, far too loving. Grace's hands somehow find their way into the tangled curls of Frankie's hair and they keep kissing until she's sure she's lightheaded and dizzy and forces herself to come up for air.

"Woooow," Frankie says, smiling, "Grace Hanson really knows how to kiss."

They both laugh softly, their foreheads joined together in a post-kiss daze and to Grace's astonishment, it doesn't feel particularly different. The awkwardness she had felt earlier has dissipated, and although questions of labels and her past and what it all means threaten to buzz around her head, she realises that above all else, she feels calm. An unmistakable sense of ease has washed over her and for once in her long life she feels like everything might actually turn out okay. As long as this woman who is rubbing small circles on her forearm, her eyes still closed blissfully, remains by her side.


End file.
